


Fragile Strings

by Eien_Ni



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Past Underage, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eien_Ni/pseuds/Eien_Ni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia was now eighteen. Had been eighteen for a few months, and she and Peter were finally able to be seen in public together. Lydia had been anxiously awaiting this day, having thought of it ever since she and Peter had begun whatever-the-hell-this-was on her seventeenth birthday. In order to celebrate, they were going out to eat. Peter hadn’t revealed the location to her, just told her what to wear.</p><p>But now here she was. Stuck in bed with the damn flu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragile Strings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [synchronized_strangers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/synchronized_strangers/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a Valentine's Day fic, but I didn't finish in time for that. Then I planned to post it for Lydia's birthday in March, but again I never posted it. Now I finally finished it for [synchronized_strangers](http://archiveofourown.org/users/synchronized_strangers)! It's short and probably a bit out of character - I tried - But hopefully it cheers you up a bit :)

Lydia hated being sick. Luckily, those times were few and far between. When they did happen, however, she was miserable and made sure to make those around her miserable, too. While being sick was bad in itself, it was ten times worse when the illness fell on a day that she had special plans for.

Which was what had happened this year.

Lydia was now eighteen. Had been eighteen for a few months, and she and Peter were finally able to be seen in public together. Lydia had been anxiously awaiting this day, having thought of it ever since she and Peter had begun whatever-the-hell-this-was on her seventeenth birthday. In order to celebrate, they were going out to eat. Peter hadn’t revealed the location to her, just told her what to wear.

But now here she was. Stuck in bed with the damn flu.

Lydia coughed, almost missing the quiet slide of the window as it opened. She glanced over and inwardly cursed upon seeing Peter climbing into her room. “Oh, my God. Leave. I look awful,” Lydia grumbled as she yanked the covers over her head. She held her breath, rolling her eyes when she heard Peter chuckling.

“You look fine.”

“You’re only saying that because you want sex. Which you’re not getting today,” she added. The bed dipped under Peter’s weight, and Lydia curled into a ball, tucking the comforter more securely around her when he tugged gently on it.

“I didn’t come all this way to talk to a blanket.”

“I’m sick. I don’t want anyone to see me like this,” Lydia coughed, then let out an indignant protest as Peter peeled the covers away. “Oh, God, I hate you.”

“Oh, now that hurt.”

She rolled her eyes at his wounded tone. “Please. My saying that probably didn’t even phase you.” Lydia tilted her head back, accepting the light kiss he pressed to the top of her head.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Peter sat on the edge of the bed. “I cancelled the reservations for tonight and made arrangements for next week.”

“Okay. I wish we could have gone tonight,” Lydia sighed and carefully eased herself into a sitting position. She waited a moment, but no dizziness or nausea overcame her. Definitely a good sign.

“You’re sick,” he pointed out.

“Gee, I didn’t know that,” Lydia mumbled sarcastically. “You realize how fortunate you are? Werewolves can’t get sick. Sometimes I wish I’d turned because this - ” Lydia abruptly stopped, closing her eyes for a moment before jumping out of bed and dashing into the bathroom. She made it to the toilet just in time to lose what little she’d eaten an hour before, her stomach heaving until there was nothing left. A hand rubbed soothingly at her back, and she sighed. Peter must have followed her, but at least he’d made himself useful by holding her hair away from her face.

He handed her a glass of water, which she swished around in her mouth before spitting it out in the sink. “Feel better?” he asked.

“No,” Lydia mumbled and leaned against him. “I’m dizzy, tired, and I’ve hardly eaten all day.”

Peter pressed a kiss to the top of her head and slid his hands down her arms. “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.” Lydia looped her arms around his neck, allowing him to pick her up and carry her to the bed. He laid her down, slipped his shoes off, and crawled in next to her, resting against the headboard.

Immediately, Lydia curled beside him, her head on his chest and arm wrapped securely around his waist. His fingers ran through her strawberry blonde locks.

“This wasn’t how I wanted to spend the day.”

“You mean you had no plans involving a bed and physical contact?”

She didn’t have to look at him to know that he was smirking. She could hear it in his voice. “Smartass. Of course I’d intended that to be included, but not this way. My plans involved physical contact with no clothes.”

Peter hummed, “We could take our clothes off.”

Lydia pulled back slightly and eyed him. “No. I’m cold.”

“You do know that body heat can best be shared without clothing.”

“I do know that. But my answer is still no,” she retorted.

“Very well.” He pulled her closer, rubbing a hand soothingly over her back. “Maybe next time.”

Lydia snorted and closed her eyes. Peter’s hand was lulling her to sleep, but she fought to stay awake. It wasn’t very often that he came to visit her, and intended to make the most of it, even if she was sick.

Her relationship with Peter was complicated, even more so than the one she’d had with Jackson. She’d known that would be the case upon becoming involved with Peter, but it hadn’t stopped her although it probably should have. He was 22 years her senior, not to mention the same man who had attacked her and put her in the hospital, among other things he’d done to her. Honestly, if she had any self-preservation at all, she’d run as far away from him as she could. She doubted that would stop him, though. After all, it had been Peter who had initiated this little affair. He had been the one to pursue her, to pull her into his grasp. Would she have even been able to escape if she’d tried?

“You chose me.” Her voice was quiet and hard to hear, even in the silence of the room. She blamed the lack of sleep and nutrients for her voicing her runaway thoughts.

“I did,” he replied. “And you know why.”

Lydia nodded, grimacing when a wave of nausea hit her. She waited until it passed before she spoke. “Yes.” She did know the reason. She’d known for months. Ever since that one dream about her sixteenth birthday party.

“Beauty,” Peter scrutinized her thoughtfully. “Even when ill, you look amazing. Although I admit I am a bit partial to your disheveled, flushed appearance at any time.”

Lydia shivered, pinned by his intense gaze as it hungrily roved over her body. He’d seen her naked countless times, before when he had been in her mind and after they had begun whatever-the-hell-this-was. He knew her body inside and out. Where to touch to get a reaction, whether it be a sensual moan or a scream he’d have to muffle with his lips.

Even now, his fingers danced up her side, sliding her shirt up. Goosebumps rose on her feverish skin, and her own fingers tightened around his arm.

“Intelligence.” His free hand tangled in her hair, snagging on a few knots. “Women who can think for themselves and solve their own problems. It’s more interesting when the woman is free-spirited and independent.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, moaning lowly when he nipped at her ear.

“Do you know what the last thing is, Lydia?” Peter murmured huskily. A clawed finger drifted lazily down her cheek, pressing just enough to leave a thin, red mark.

Lydia swallowed, “Immunity,” she whispered. Her mouth felt like cotton, and she trembled under his touch.

“Very good,” he praised her. His lips grazed her forehead before trailing down to her cheek, his tongue licking at the tiny scratch barely visible there.

Green eyes closed, and a low moan fell from Lydia’s mouth as Peter’s lips found hers. Her lips parted at a nip from his teeth, and their tongues slid against each other in a kiss that left her gasping for air when they finally parted.

“Get some rest,” Peter said, his brow furrowing slightly as he touched a hand to her cheek.

Lydia nodded, her eyes already half closed. She didn’t protest when he shifted her into a different position and got up, returning a moment later with a damp cloth that he placed on her forehead. It was in that moment that Lydia knew that she didn’t want to escape from Peter. As unconventional as their relationship was, it worked for them. They pushed each other’s buttons, taunted, and teased. They argued, they fought. But in the end, they always gravitated back towards each other, bound by the fragile strings of beauty, intelligence, and immunity.

**Author's Note:**

> And here is my [tumblr](http://drowning-inthe-feels.tumblr.com/) if you're interested in checking it out!


End file.
